


Half of Me is Yours

by my_angel_misha



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angel!Castiel, Angels have wings, Chapter one is shorter but future chapters will be longer, Chapters change tenses, Elf！Dean, Elves don’t really have any powers, Fantasy-esque, M/M, Not present day though, The rating will change, They’re known for their intellect, healer!dean, unspecified time period
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-05 07:21:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18823849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_angel_misha/pseuds/my_angel_misha
Summary: When Dean Winchester is six years old, he finds a small vial of blue, liquid warmth in the forest behind his home. Warmth probably isn’t the correct term, but it’s exactly what Dean thinks of when he sees the blue swirls inside the vial. Whatever it is, it absolutely reels in and mystifies Dean.For the next twenty years, he keeps the small vial hooked around his neck, on a small silver chain - his most prized possession, next to the small clinic he owns in town. The blue warmth belongs to someone else, though, and eventually they’re going to come looking for it.‘Eventually’ just so happens to be right now.





	Half of Me is Yours

**Author's Note:**

> This was a random idea I had, and I’m already not quite sure where I’m going with it. As far as the setting goes, I’m imagining a forest city, very Lord of the Rings-esque. Think Rivendell. 
> 
> Elves are not magical beings like angels are. They’re essentially just humans with a different culture, ethereal beauty, and slightly pointy ears. They’re known for their intellect and medicinal miracles, which are far beyond that of humans. 
> 
> Physically, elves grow at the same rate a human child would, although mentally they’re a tad bit ahead. 
> 
> This chapter is in present tense, because I feel that it sounds better this way, but future chapters will be in past tense, as that’s how I generally write. 
> 
> Future chapters will be longer.

When Dean Winchester is six years old, he finds a small vial of blue, liquid warmth in the forest behind his home. It’s just sitting there in the dirt, half covered with soil and decomposing Earth. He remembers reaching for it with his chubby little fingers, gasping in wonder as warmth spreads up through his fingertips and all the way down to his toes. It makes his nose itch, resulting in a cute bunny-like sneeze. 

He takes it home, loudly announcing his entrance as he stumbles in through the front door. He shows the vial to Mommy, who examines it carefully and hands it back to him with a kind smile, deeming it safe for little hands. 

For the next couple of weeks, Dean carries the little vial around with him wherever he goes, the glass squeezed in safely between his chubby fingers. Dean remembers the first time he dropped it too - How he shrieked as it began to fall, his gut filled with dread as he thinks about the inevitable crash to the ground. Much to Dean’s surprise, the bottle didn’t shatter into a million little pieces. In fact, there wasn’t a single scratch on it. 

Regardless of whether or not the vial broke, Mommy attaches it to a small silver chain for Dean, telling him that he doesn’t have to carry the vial around in his hand now. 

Dean is  _proud_.

He walks around the house with his small chest puffed out, showing off his lucky charm to Mommy, Daddy, and Sammy whenever possible. Dean fingers the small vial during lessons at home, when Mommy makes him read Elvish books for children. 

When Dean sleeps, he unclasps the vial from around his neck, holding it in his hand, underneath his downy pillow. It warms him up, sending happiness awash over his pale skin.

As Dean gets older, the vial becomes less of an obsession, and more of a good luck charm. It still lays there, though, over his beating heart, warming up his skin always. It brings him a sense of security and happiness that he knows he’ll never be able to pinpoint. 

Other elf-children make fun of him sometimes when he goes for walks past the watering hole. They sneer and make grabby hands for his vial, but he just grips it close and carries on. They’re just jealous because he has a good luck charm and they don’t. 

Once every lunar fortnight or so, the vial glows burning hot. The swirls glow a shade that is similar to where the ocean meets the night sky. It gets too hot to touch, and Dean has to take it off for a few minutes. The waves never last more than five minutes, and they die down just as quickly as they began, much like a sudden tsunami. It’s always strange when that happens, but Dean likes to think that the blue swirls inside the vial are trying to speak to him - Thank him, maybe, for the good care he’s taken of it.

When Dean turns twelve and has his Elvish coming-of-age ceremony, all of their neighbors gift him with books, potions, and clothes. He enjoys the sentiment, but he also knows that nothing will ever compare to the glass vial that holds the secrets to the universe (that’s what Dean thinks it contains, anyway). 

Dean grows in and out of clothes, gains and loses friends, but the only consistency in his life is the blue swirls. He doesn’t know why, but sometimes he feels as if it’s alive, pulsing and swirling and trying to tell him secrets through the fine glass. 

When the day comes to Dean to go to Elvish school, his vial is buried deep in the bottom of his backpack, under scrolls and quills, where nobody can ever find it. 

Dean enjoys school, although he doesn’t talk to any of the other children his age. He sits quietly in the back of the classroom, scribbling down detailed notes into the soft contours of his parchment. He’s a good student - one of the brightest, according to his teachers. It makes him smile bashfully whenever he’s told he’s smart, although his Mom and Dad enjoy telling their friends how  _smart_ Dean is, and how maybe he’ll become a Healer someday. 

Although Dean doubts he’ll ever be smart enough to be a healer, his interest in medicine peaks when he’s thirteen years old. In a small, abandoned classroom on the sixth floor of the school, he mixes up concoctions whenever he has the free time. Some turn different colors, or give off faintly pleasant odors. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing until he’s fifteen years old, but he has fun with it anyway. 

In all of Dean’s medicine-related classes, he achieves far beyond that of the other students in his grade level. Eventually, his potions start to  _do_ things that he wants them to do. They heal coughs, or cure diseases, which is more than what can be said for the other young elves his age.

The very same month in which Dean graduates from Elvish Primary, he opens up his own clinic, at the young age of seventeen. Right off the bat, he loves what he does, and he loves the people he helps. Dean goes from a soft-spoken introvert to a bubbly extrovert when he’s at work, because there’s truly nothing he loves more than helping others. 

Although potion-work is no picnic, Dean finds that his job is not only rewarding, but he also really enjoys it. His patients really look up to him, and expect him to do his very best, which he never fails to do. 

Very quickly, Dean falls into a comfortable rhythm of work and leisure-time, although his work doesn’t generally leave much time for leisure. What time he does have off though, Dean likes to walk down the many wooded paths just outside of the city. Many times he goes to visit the spot where he found his vial, the ground now overrun with flowers and weeds. It’s too difficult to tell the exact spot where he found the swirling blue liquid, but it’s general enough that being there makes Dean feel right. 

Dean’s life is happy, and his work is fulfilling. So much so that Dean really doesn’t think about relationships that are outside of his friend group. He works, and then goes home to spend the rest of the day either hanging out with his friends, or spending even more time on potion-work. 

For the next few years, Dean’s mind is on work, and not on the vial. Many days, it sits at home in his bedside drawer, and sometimes Dean misses the warmth that it provides - But he’s not a small child with a good luck charm anymore. He’s an adult, and he has to be his own good luck charm now.

Dean’s days are like clockwork, and he rather likes it that way. He doesn’t need any sort of distractions in his life. Now right now. 

Change always seems to come when it’s least expected to, though. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave me a comment or a kudos if you’ve enjoyed so far, or if you’d enjoy a continuation of this AU.
> 
> It makes my little writer brain happy <3
> 
> Also, leave me any questions you have about elves or angels, and I’ll try my best to answer.


End file.
